“God is blind.”
The young child, of that nondescript age between four and seven, was gazing with a rather innocent philosophical stare at his tie.
It was a very bright tie. In fact, so bright, that it served quite the distraction from his face, which was indeed not attention-catching at all. It had polka dots (accounts of what happened never seemed to be entirely clear about whether it was his tie or his face that was so lavishly decorated with those enchanting dots).
“What?” He said it with a rather indignant tone one can only expect from a devout Christian who recently cheated on his wife. He had, however, not cheated on his wife, since he was not married. He was just one of those unlucky people who always sound as if they did something wrong.
The girl, for it did seem to be a girl, was still quite distracted by his absurd tie, but chose to reply anyhow: “Mother said—my mother said—that God always answers those who need it most and I need it most and he didn’t answer any of my letters or any of the emails I asked my mother to write!” She managed to say “my mother” with such conviction and almost aggression, that Robert, who certainly wasn’t very well versed with children of any ages, flinched. He had consulted his therapist several times about his manic fear of teenagers for instance, who always seemed to be hanging around his car. (Later reports indicated that there had indeed been an after-school club for suspiciously hanging around people’s cars, and Robert had been marked as a very effective target. Some high-school anthropologists have suggested that the teenagers knew to extract information from the local therapy office, which seems to have been very susceptible towards large, official-looking and threatening cards, with attractively typed statements like “TEENAGER-SAFE” or “GET BACK YOUR CAR (one-time-use only).”
“So God is blind.” She looked very determined.
Robert was getting a little nervous, but, despite himself, he ventured “But–, what–, if there is more–, than one god?”
This seemed to surprise her, and she didn't say anything for the next four or five seconds. Robert took this as an opportunity to elaborate.
“What–, if there is, like you say, a blind god, but, additionally, also–, a wise one?” She was still staring at his tie and making him increasingly nervous.
“Could it be–, that all we see, the chaos, is caused by the blind, as you put it, god? And–, that we live in a projection of two universes: one of order, one of chaos? That the wise god, the Yin, causes order–, and the blind god, the Yang, causes chaos? And lastly, could it be–, that you asked the wrong god?”
Faced with what to her seemed a plausible solution, her character changed quite drastically: she looked up from his tie. Yes, it was only a second before her eyes returned to the now familiar blue and pink, but that was enough to give Robert courage.
“Of course, you cannot ask the wise god, for we live in chaos. But–, the wise god sent a parcel of itself to the blind god’s universe, the parcel Elijah, of Jesus (eli, eli, lama sabachthani), etc., and you could certainly ask that parcel–, if your need is great."
Now it was the girl’s turn to be indignant, “What?”
“But Jesus is dead how am I supposed to ask him?” she continued.
For a minute (a full minute), Robert thought of how to explain the entirety of Gnosticism, the Logos, the Immortal One, et al.; but, after due consideration, he gave up, facing the difficulties every parent has faced when forced to explain such things to a stubborn, young child.
“You are wrong. Thy thoughts are false.”
“I was convinced I was right because I am right because mother—my mother—said that God always answers and you’re just some stranger—and I’m not supposed to talk to strangers—with a funny tie talking about Jesus wait mom said—my mother said—that religious people always try to sell people Bibles or get money and I shouldn’t talk to them so there!”
“What?” Robert, while grimacing in pain, realized that theological discussions about Christianity may not have been the best small-talk subject when with a child, such as the one who had just kicked him in the shin and run off.
Another god-awful English test is over — thank God! This time, I was forced to “include the sentence ‘I was convinced I was right.’” I ended up getting 19/25 marks, because the story “wasn’t narrative enough.”